Prom Queen and Hair Gel
by StormPhoenix3205
Summary: AU with Connor and Michaela as teenage step-siblings. Pure fluff and fun. (By request.)
1. Chapter 1

_**(Disclaimer: I obviously don't own How to Get Away With Murder or any of its characters. My God, I wish...)**_

"Need the locker, buddy," Asher Millstone heaved between breaths, running up to me and hurriedly spinning the combination lock to open the locker we both shared. "Nice perk of you being gay- I know you have a mirror in there somewhere." Asher grinned as he rifled around through my stuff.

"You know almost everything you just said was offensive, right?" I pointed out with a sigh. "Like, all gays aren't fashionistas."

"They're not?" Asher stopped and looked up, genuinely surprised.

"Annnnd this is why you have no other friends." I shook my head and deftly pried a compact mirror from between my textbooks, tossing it to him.

"Sorry, dude. I'll remember next time! How's my hair?" Asher raked a few fingers through his hair and straightened the tie at his neck that was identical to mine. "How do I look?"

"Like the rest of us clones."

"Okay, but like, maybe a hotter-than-the-rest clone? I mean, do you think she'll notice me today?"

It was easy to see how Asher and I had become friends. Thanks to my mom dying of cancer when I was twelve and my dad being the Philadelphia Police Commissioner, I had just been yanked from boarding school and gotten dumped here at William Penn Academy, the private school for parents who hated private schools. It was supposed to "foster the growth and development" of humble students while sacrificing none of the academic opportunities. That was what the website said anyway, and it was a load of shit. The kids here all thought I was a snobby, rich queer. And I thought they were all sheltered wannabes, desperate for a public school experience but too scared to enter one. I mean, I already knew I was a snob, but at least I wasn't posing. Asher, however, was the poser king. Upon first meeting him, I could easily pick up on three things: 1) he was absolutely desperate for his father's approval, 2) he was absolutely desperate for social acceptance, and 3) he was absolutely desperate for a girlfriend. And right now, being the hopeless romantic that he was, he was pining away for the Senior Queen: Michaela Pratt.

"I can't stand that girl," I muttered.

Michaela Pratt was everything I hated about being a teenager. She was popular, smart, pretty (of course), and her parents were loaded. Her mother was some big-shot lawyer who'd divorced Michaela's big-shot father years and years ago so she was practically swimming in money. People like her expected the world to bow down to them because, of course, it always had. People like her needed to be stopped at all costs.

"That's just because you're not attracted to her," Asher retorted, returning my mirror back into the locker's depths. "Shhhhh! There she is!"

In strode Michaela, looking 100% like your classic 90s teen movie queen bee. I don't know how she did it, but she even managed to make the olive plaid knee-length skirt and wool vest combo look _good_ \- not like most girls here, who mostly just came off looking like Scottish overlords. Her black hair was shoulder length with a slight wave, her rich brown skin was smooth and radiant, and her smile lit up the entire hallway. She looked like a teenage Olivia Pope. I checked my pants.

Nope, still gay.

"H-hi, Michaela." Asher ventured. Michaela approached us, glamazon friend in tow.

"Hi…" Michaela squinted. "Aaron," she decided.

"Um, Asher," Asher corrected her. I swallowed a laugh.

"Oh, sorry," Michaela apologized absently. "Well…bye." She turned around to keep moving. Or floating, whatever the hell she did.

"But- but…you can call me Aaron if you want," Asher volunteered, getting Michaela to turn back. "It could be like a nickname. Like something between just us two…"

Michaela raised an eyebrow, but then her friend piped up.

"Hey, aren't you that kid who transferred here, like, a month ago?" She asked me. "Connor, right?" All three of them turned to look at me in unison. I promise you it was just as creepy looking as it sounds.

"Uh…yeah, that's me," I said begrudgingly. Asher bristled, but I shrugged.

"I'm Laurel," the girl said, extending her hand "Laurel Castillo." She was just as blindingly beautiful as Michaela, although in a different way, with her creamy pale skin and blue-gray eyes. Up close, I could kind of understand why Asher turned to mush. If I were even the slightest bit interested in women, both of them probably would've had me stuttering by now, too.

"Nice to meet you." I shook her hand with slight suspicion.

"Pleasure," replied Laurel, with zero sarcasm. "I just want you to know, Penn isn't like other schools. As Vice President of Debate Club, I want you to know that I personally make sure we're very open minded here and won't tolerate any kind of bullying."

"Uh…great." I tried to say it like a statement, but I wasn't sure if she meant I would be the bully or the bullied.

Michaela noticed my hesitation and frowned. "Look, she's only trying to make you feel welcome. You don't need to be rude."

"I wasn't trying to- "

Asher cut me off. "Oh, he's just shy! Isn't. That. Right. Connor?" He clutched my arm with a tourniquet-like grip, his eyes boring into mine.

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered, ignoring Asher's pleading eyes. He turned back to the girls apologetically.

"Here, let me take your bag, Michaela. That looks heavy- oh, and Laurel's too? Uh, yeah. And gym bag? And car keys…ah, um, okay. Sure thing, ladies." With unmasked distaste, I watched Asher struggle, but Michaela seemed to take this as an acceptable apology. "Wow, what a gentleman." She exchanged glances with Laurel, who nodded minutely. "So…you guys wanna come to my Homecoming party this weekend?"

"Yeah!" Asher volunteered. "I mean…you know, yeah, sure, if we're not doing anything. Right, man?" I just looked at him like he sprouted two heads. I'd rather die than go to some lame high school party.

I was probably being dramatic. But still.

I really couldn't stand girls like that- girls like _them_ , who did whatever they wanted and thought everyone worshipped the ground they walked on, who used straight men and collected gay ones, girls who were beautiful, but didn't use that to get anywhere, just to put others down. Guys did it too, of course, but it was easier for men to get ahead without relying on their looks. Guess it was sexism at the root of things, but for me right now in this moment, it was high school hell.

Laurel and Michaela both giggled profusely. (Why do girls _do_ that?)

"Okay," Michaela said. "Find me on Facebook. I'll send you the invite."

"You bet," Asher beamed under the mountain of stuff he was carrying.

"Our homeroom is upstairs," Laurel hinted. "On the third floor."

"Oh, yeah. Totally." Asher began huffing towards the stairway.

"Asher," I warned. "The bell's gonna ring in 5 minutes!" We were right outside the door of our own homeroom.

Asher gave me a very pointed look that said: bitch, don't kill my vibe.

"Uhhh…guess I'll just…go in, then," I finished weakly.

"Uh, durrrrrr." Asher muttered.

"You are just _such_ a sweetheart, Aaron." Michaela smiled broadly at him, and for a split second I forgot my name, too. "But we've gotta run or we'll be late. Meet you there!" She and Laurel sped off.

"I am _so_ in there," Asher grinned.

"Maybe," I admitted. "If you can ever get _up_ there." I pointed toward the staircase.

"This will just be a funny story to tell our kids someday, " Asher chuckled, nonplussed.

"If she remembers your name."

"Dude— "

"Later, _Aa-ron_!" I winked and badly mimicked Michaela's floaty sashay walk, then slipped inside our classroom before he could retort.

* * *

 _ **(A/N: What'd you think? This story was by request, so it's different from what I usually like to write but I had fun! What do you think will happen at the party? We all know Connor will get dragged there lol. Leave me a review, please! It REALLY helps!)**_


	2. Chapter 2

"Oooooh…Michaela, you look hot!"

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror next to Laurel's. "Thanks," I grinned. "You do, too."

"Obviously," Laurel rolled her eyes. "So are we ready for the best party of the fall?"

I examined both of us carefully. We wore matching solid bikinis: mine was a hot pink cutout style and Laurel's a royal blue string bikini. She covered hers up with a pair of light wash denim cutoffs and I covered mine with a Grecian-inspired white maxi dress with a deep V down the front. Laurel had done a messy-on-purpose side braid while I went for a sleek topknot. In the interest of pretending we would actually get in my pool, neither of us had on makeup (except lip gloss, waterproof mascara and brow pomade, of course. We weren't insane).

"Dressed to impress," I affirmed. "Let's go downstairs."

As we made our way down the staircase, we could hear my mother arguing with the cab driver about how to pack her luggage:

"…It's not a lump of coal, you know. Could you at least pretend to be delicate?" Mom was saying.

"Listen lady, if you want me to act like it's a newborn baby here, it's gonna cost you extra," the cabbie huffed as he struggled onto the porch with her next suitcase.

"Extra? I have to pay extra for you to do your job?"

I cleared my throat while the cab driver grumbled obscenities on his way to the taxi. "Bye, Mom."

"Girls! It's been a nightmare. Never travel out of town for two conferences back to back when you grow up." She looked around for her purse.

"Have a safe flight, Mrs. Keating," Laurel chuckled, not looking up from her phone. Mom grabbed both of us in a quick hug. "Now, you know you can always call me if you need me. All the emergency numbers are on the fridge. If you want anything for fun, I left you my Visa card. Please keep it reasonable, Michaela."

"Sure." I grinned.

"And no parties."

"Of course, Mom," I said with a straight face. "We're going out, actually."

"Uh-huh. I wasn't born yesterday, you know." Mom eyed both of us for a minute, knowing I was lying but trying to decide if she cared or not.

"When I come back this house better be in _pristine_ condition, you understand me?"

"Good- _bye_ , Mom," I said. The taxi honked loudly just then. Mom shook her head and finally strode out of the door. Laurel and I waited until we could no longer hear the car in the distance.

"Let's grab your mail," Laurel suggested. So we popped out front to the mailbox, sifting through catalogues as we sauntered back to the front door. As we dumped the mail on the front table and shut the door, I squealed. "There. We went out. Now let's throw this party!"

...

Two hours in and he still hadn't arrived.

"Any word yet?" Laurel shouted at me over the blaring loudspeakers.

"Nothing!" I screamed back. "I don't think he's coming!"

Laurel made a pouty face at me, then brightened. "Well, at least _someone_ is glad to see you. 2 o'clock!"

I looked in that direction and saw that guy who'd been hanging around us a lot lately. Aaron? Allen? Yeah, I think Allen….something…

"Asher looks like he wants him some Michaela…" Laurel teased. _Asher. That's it_ , I thought. He waved tentatively at me from across the room. I gave him a hollow smile and flung my hand in his general direction. The guy next to him frowned, looking blatantly unhappy. It was that new guy Connor. Why did he even come? He already rubbed me the wrong way; I just didn't like the way he looked at me. I mean, I could tell he didn't like me. But that made no sense; _everybody_ liked me.

All the other kids at school just saw him as your stereotypical bratty white boy- a boarding school snob who thought he was God's enlightening gift to the world because he was gay and pretty. I personally didn't care if he was gay but I did have a problem with it: because it meant I couldn't figure him out. Straight guys were easy. They either wanted to get in your pants, or they didn't. If they did, they'd be putty in your hands (until you gave it up). If they didn't want to get in your pants, they usually ignored you entirely. But gay guys were different- Connor actually looked at me like a person and not a goal. And I didn't need that. Laurel was the only person who actually knew anything about me and I wasn't trying to add more people to that list. So I really couldn't help hating how Connor looked at me like he didn't like what he saw.

And now here he was standing in my living room.

" _Ayyyyyy_ , look who's coming!" Laurel gushed. Asher was making his way across the room to me. I sighed inwardly. I really wasn't in the mood tonight.

"What up, foxy mamas?" Asher raised his Solo cup by way of greeting.

"Hey," I checked my phone again. Nothing.

"Cool house," Asher shouted.

"Not like I bought it!" I yelled back, shrugging.

"I see homegirl's got jokes!" Asher mimed a hurt expression and laughed. Laurel and I exchanged looks. Did this guy really come to my party sounding like a dad? Asher stepped closer to me and I turned my ear so I could hear him. Laurel unabashedly looked on with interest.

"Uh, I just meant…" Asher began. "Cool party, you know?" There was a pause. "And you look fantastic, by the way."

I pulled back. "Thanks. So I'll see you around?" I turned to go, but Asher gently brushed my arm.

"Well, I was thinking…well, I mean…I just…you look so great right now. Um, not that you don't always! But I mean, of course you're _more_ than good looks…would you… could we go somewhere quieter for a little bit and talk? Maybe?"

"Uhhhh…" I stood there and frowned, unsure of what to say. Was this guy serious? I could count on one hand the amount of times we'd spoken. He didn't even _know_ me and now here he was with empty flattery and trying to get me alone?

"I have a boyfriend."

Asher's face fell but he quickly recomposed himself, his upbeat demeanor returning.

"Oh…yeah, sure. Of course. Of course you do." We both stood there for a second, awkwardly unsure of what to do next. But I wasn't going to say anything. He'd probably only talked to me to win a bet with his stupid friends. High school boys were literally the worst.

Asher recovered first. "Well…he's very lucky. Thanks, uh, thanks for inviting me to your party." He sort of half-smiled, mimicked tipping an imaginary hat, and walked off. I watched him for a moment then grabbed Laurel.

"Soooo, what was that about?" she asked. "Does he want to have your babies?!"

"Stop it. I think he was trying to hit on me. He asked if we could go somewhere "just to talk." I raised an eyebrow so she would know what I meant.

"Seriously?" Laurel squinted at Asher's retreating figure with suspicion. "Like we haven't all heard _that_ one before. What a creep."

"I _know_."

She took my hands in hers and swung them back and forth, holding her cup with her teeth. "But who currz? You hvv da besht boyfrenn uv, like, _evurr_ ," she said through her clenched jaw.

I smiled. "Right?" _Although he wasn't here right now…_

Laurel removed the cup from her mouth and turned her back to me. "Listen, double knot this for me? I wanna go out to the pool; I can barely hear myself think in here." I reached up to adjust her bikini top and when I finished re-tying the strings, I noticed someone tall, male, and very familiar slipping through the front door, someone who looked a lot like—

"AIDENNNNNNNNNN!" I screamed and ran across the room.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I had fun writing this chapter! Let me know what you think with reviews, reviews review, pretty please!**_


	3. Chapter 3

I heard a loud squeal and saw Michaela zooming my way. I turned to Aiden with a smile. "I'm guessing you know her?"

"Uh, yeah," He looked uncomfortable and laughed shakily. "You heading out?"

"Well, I was looking for the bathroom, actually…" Before I could say more, a breathless Michaela appeared in front of both of us.

"Hi!" she heaved. "Hiiiiiiiii, baby. I was wondering when you'd get here!" She grabbed Aiden into a tight embrace while I raised an eyebrow. _Baby?_

Michaela released him and turned back towards me, glowing. "Connor, this is my boyfriend Aiden. Isn't he gorgeous?" There was a slight pause then Aiden extended his hand to me, eyes pleading.

"Hey, man. Nice to meet you."

I stared back at him mutely. Was this asshole seriously trying to pretend like he didn't know me? After everything we'd been to each other? Was he _serious_? Well, he picked the wrong guy tonight. I was so done with all these fake people and the fake party and the fake fun. I was done playing nice.

"We actually know each other already," I said coolly. Fear danced across Aiden's face.

"Oh?" asked Michaela, still cooing over Aiden. She wasn't even looking at me. "Where could you two possibly have met?" That was the final straw. I was so done with everyone.

"Aiden?" I faked a bright, giddy smile. "You wanna tell her? Or should I do it, pumpkin?"

"Look…" Aiden began quickly.

"Tell me what?" Michaela was still smiling, picking lint off Aiden's jacket.

"We were each other's first."

Michaela stopped, her hand in mid-air. "What?" Her voice was low, her eyes flashing. "What did you just say?"

"We. Were. Each. Other's. First." I deadpanned, looking directly at Aiden, daring him to deny it.

"Aiden?" Michaela ignored me. "What's this loser talking about?"

"I…" Aiden looked between the two of us, visibly unsure of what to say, which only made me angrier. Was he ashamed of me?

"I...we...it was a long time ago, Michaela..." Aiden sighed.

"Excuse me?" Michaela stepped away from him.

"Not all that long ago," I mumbled.

"Two years ago!" Aiden protested. "I was just a kid, just- you know, experimenting…"

"If it was an experiment, you were sure working hard to get that data," I smirked.

Aiden threw me a withering look that clearly said: " _You're not helping."_

Michaela gasped then wrung her hands together. "I don't believe you. Either of you. Aiden would never...do _that_ with you. He's straight!"

"Bisexual, maybe. But definitely not straight." I looked Aiden up and down hungrily. "Definitely," I smirked.

"Connor, cut it out," Aiden reached for Michaela. "Babe, please. Let me explain…"

"Explain _what_?" Michaela fumed. "All this time you've been saying you wanted to wait, that you wanted our first time to be special, but really you've just been having gay sex on the down low?"

"No, not at all! I- "

"Oh, dear." I cut in. "This all sounds rather personal. I'll just let you two lovebirds resolve this lovers' spat. Now if you'll excuse me, I need the little boys room…"

Aiden glared at me. "Thanks a lot, man." I shrugged. He should have known I was petty like that. But as I walked past them both I swore I saw tears glimmering in Michaela's eyes. I hadn't exactly meant to hurt her, but she was no angel either. They probably deserved each other.

Good luck.

...

"Explain," I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest. I stood on my front porch glaring up at him.

"Look, Michaela…" Aiden sighed.

" _Explain_." I steeled my voice.

"I didn't plan any of it. I'm not into- I wasn't- I wasn't thinking about being with men. But now I realize...I… I might be."

"You _might_ be?" I shrieked.

"I...am." Aiden sighed again. God, that was annoying. "I am, Michaela. Connor...made me realize that men are what I want." He faced me directly now. "And that's _all_ I want." _Damn, so he wasn't even bisexual,_ I lamented inwardly. I sank down to the floor. "So you've been gay all this time? Fucking guys? What. About. _Me?_ "

"I'm really, really sorry," Aiden sat next to me. "You're perfect, Michaela. Just not perfect for me." He hesitated, then kissed my temple gingerly. That's why I wanted us to wait to have sex. I...I didn't know if I..." I looked at him in shock, and he hurriedly kept talking. "And it wouldn't have been fair to you. You should have someone who will worship your body. And I…" he paused. We both were quiet then.

"You should have someone you're attracted to," I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You told me you wanted to wait until I turned eighteen. But this is the real reason, isn't it?"

Aiden looked away from me then. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I love you, Michaela, but I can't be with you. You will never be what I want."

 _You will never be what I want._

I shot up quickly. "Then why date me? Why even pretend?" I was fuming, my chest heaving. "Why waste my time? What, did you think you would magically become straight the longer you strung me along?"

Aiden jumped up, too. "No, that's not it. I- "

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Just shut up! You're a liar and I hate you and just... _shut. up._ " I pushed him square in the chest with each word. Not hard, but hard enough for him to know I was serious.

"Michaela…"

"Shut up!" I shouted again. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Not now and not ever again. You _lied_ to me!"

"Yeah, but can't you see why? I didn't mean to..." He tried to come near me again, reaching for my hands.

" _No!_ " I was crying now, blubbering my way through words that didn't even make sense. I recoiled from him and slapped his hands away. "Just get out! Just get the hell away from me!"

"Michaela…" Aiden pleaded.

"Just go _away_!"

Aiden opened his mouth like he was going to say more, then thought better of it. "Okay…" His shoulders slumped and he turned to leave. "It's not that I don't like you, you know. This is really the only thing. I hope maybe one day we can be friends?"

I laughed bitterly through my tears. "Aiden, if you don't get off this property in the next 30 seconds I'm calling the cops."

He squeezed me awkwardly on the shoulder then turned. I stood very still as I watched his tall frame retreat into the darkness of the night. When I finally heard his car pull off, I plopped myself on the front steps and sobbed at the realization that my whole relationship had been a lie.

As my sobs turned into sniffles, I heard a floorboard creak behind me.

"Oh...uh, excuse me."

It was that Allen, Adam- whatever his name was- kid. I wiped at my tears but didn't move. "Stalk much?" I asked irritably.

"Uh, no," he said, looking sheepish. "I was heading out to my car when I...I heard crying…" he eyed me with caution but went on. "Everything okay? You look..." he laughed nervously. "I'm sorry. Um, I shouldn't- I can, uh, go get Laurel maybe? Or do you want to be alone? I can lea- "

"Stay," I said simply. I really didn't want Laurel's über-optimistic "fuck him" attitude just yet, and I really didn't want to go back into the party and have to pretend like everything was fine. Being around someone who didn't know me at all felt oddly calming; I didn't have to fake anything, I didn't have to be happy or cool or confident.

I could just...be.

"Asher to the rescue," he smiled and sat next to me. _Asher. That's his name,_ I thought blithely. It felt good to concentrate on that for a second instead of everything that had happened. We sat in silence staring out into the empty street, the muted bass pounding behind us in the house- for I don't know how long. He had an easy, laid-back vibe, and I expected him to ask me what was wrong but he didn't. It surprised us both when I turned to him first.

"You're into me, right?"

"Definitely," he sat up straight.

"Why?" I shook my head. "You don't know a thing about me."

"Well..." he conceded. "I don't know _everything_ about you. But I do know some things."

I challenged him wordlessly.

"Okay, uh, for example, I know…" he thought for a minute, then grinned. "I know you don't take shit from anyone or you wouldn't be out here _alone_ and crying." The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself.

"Two..." Asher continued. "I know you're loyal. 'Cause your BFF Laurel is freakin nuts." I giggled outright at that and Asher smiled broadly. "I mean, seriously, did you see her trying to get people in on that blindfolded dart-throwing? Who does that? So I know you must be a really good friend...Okay, and three: I know you're like, mad smart, and not just in school."

"How do you know that?" I was intrigued now.

"I, uh, sorta used the same computer you did in Typing Skills and I saw your last website; you were shopping for Paulo Freire's _The Pedagogy of the Oppressed_ on Amazon, and I know that's not for any class at Penn."

My eyes narrowed. "So I'm not allowed to read in my spare time?"

"Of course you are," Asher agreed. "But the fact that you do- and I mean, that's not exactly light reading. I had to Google what it was about."

"Maybe that only means I'm smarter than _you_ ," I retorted, but Asher just grinned again.

"And you're funny."

I rolled my eyes and clutched my heart dramatically. "Let me guess: I'm breathtakingly beautiful, too."

"Definitely," Asher repeated. "But I was gonna say you care about people- a whole lot more than you like to let on."

At that we both got quiet again. Our faces were close together, but I was thoroughly confused. It didn't exactly feel like a kiss moment, but I felt like something intimate had passed between us.

I looked away first.

"You're very smooth."

"Smooth?" Now Asher looked confused. "No, I'm not trying to sweet-talk you; I was being real. I can tell you bad parts about yourself if you want."

"What?" I bristled.

"Oooh, okay, now that sounds bad. Don't fuck this up," Asher said under his breath. "No- I mean- just...I'm only trying to be honest with you. When I came out here and saw you, you looked- you just looked like you could use a break from bullshit. Does that...make sense? Maybe?"

There was a pause.

"Thanks." I shrugged.

Asher visibly exhaled. He seemed to mean what he said and I actually did believe him, but right now that seemed far too much to comprehend.

"My boyfriend dumped me," I blurted out.

"Why?"

"I'm not what he wants," I said simply. I hated Aiden, but I wasn't going to out him to some random guy I didn't even know. Besides, petty revenge was never my style.

"Then he must have a lot of issues to work out," Asher was saying. "I can't imagine anyone who would walk away from you unless he had some major skeletons in the closet. Good thing you got out now."

That was a good point that I hadn't considered. A really good point, actually. What if Aiden and I had had sex and he couldn't...you know. I would've been so humiliated.

"Thanks...Asher." I flashed him a smile and I could tell he knew it was genuine. "I hadn't thought about it like that."

"You're welcome," Asher looked surprised. "But seriously, don't worry, you'll find someone else who cares about you in no time. Don't waste your time pining away on some douche-bro who can't appreciate what he has." He gazed at me about a second longer than necessary.

"Yeah...you are so right." I admitted. "Asher?" I asked sweetly.

"Please keep saying my name like that..."

"Huh?"

"I mean, uhhhh...yeah?" He cleared his throat. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he said hopefully, leaning forward. His eyes lit up.

"Are you a virgin?"

* * *

 _ **A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post this but I hope the extra long length helped make up for it. Super excited for season 3 to return soon! What did you think of this chapter? Was it hard to understand the two perspectives all in one? Leave me reviews please!**_


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